


A Portkey to Anywhere

by RoseHarperMaxwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, Escape, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Mostly Fluff, References to Depression, Therapy, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:08:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29712123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseHarperMaxwell/pseuds/RoseHarperMaxwell
Summary: Draco's been down lately, and Harry can't help but try to make him feel better.Featuring the Pacific Northwest, waterfalls, and acts of love.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 64
Collections: A Very Dramione/Drarry/Reylo/Disney Birthday Celebration for Caitlincheri28





	A Portkey to Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Caitlincheri28](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitlincheri28/gifts).



> This is so very indulgent. It’s purely a love note to Cait: to your sweetness and light that weathers stormy seas, our shared love of Drarry, and our beloved PNW 🏞️ 
> 
> You know how special I think you are! Come find me when you get to come home, my friend. Happiest of birthdays.
> 
> Thank you so much to [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra) for the lovely last-minute aesthetic!

Draco exudes some quality that draws people to him. It’s effortless, or at least it seems to be. 

It’s not that Harry doesn’t find people drawn to himself. He does; too often, at times. Not because he’s Harry, but because he’s _Harry Potter._

Draco draws people in _despite_ being Draco Malfoy.

But it wears on him. Occasionally a comment about his past comes out of nowhere, and Harry can see the sadness swallow him up. He comes home from work to find Draco still in bed, having avoided his studio and eaten nothing but a nibble of toast. 

When Harry asks how his day's been, Draco says, “I couldn’t tell you, to be honest.” 

There’s nothing Harry can do to quiet that insidious voice inside Draco’s head that tells him he’ll never be more than his worst choices and mistakes. 

Harry knows he can't fix it—it's not that simple. He's no Mind Healer, and he knows he can't pull someone out of depression, even situational, or whatever it is Draco's experiencing. He has to wait it out, reassuring him, until that darkness and listlessness ebbs and Draco feels more like himself again.

But in the meantime, he can't help but try anything that might make life better, easier, happier.

He’s spent the last three years trying, since Pansy started dating Longbottom and they all became friendly. The effort’s admittedly been more concentrated in the last six months, which Harry and Draco have spent _together,_ instead of creating sexual tension so thick, even Ron noticed.

They’ve already moved in together, and everyone thinks it’s too fast. Might be, given that there are declarations they haven’t even made to each other. Draco just spent one night, and then another, and another, until Harry couldn't bear the thought of him leaving.

Harry _likes_ being around Draco. He sleeps better when he’s near, likes to see him when he wakes up, likes to be the reason he smiles. He doesn’t spend too much time examining it further than that—Draco’s skittish, sometimes, about feelings. Harry likes what they have and doesn’t want to disturb their delicate balance.

But he _does_ want Draco to feel better, and even though it's not a fix, he has an idea that might lift his spirits.

“Hello,” Harry says politely to the ancient wizard at the counter in the Department of Transportation. “I need to arrange some travel.”

“Certainly, Mr. Potter. Business or pleasure?”

Most of Harry’s travel for work is handled by the DMLE directly; he usually has no need to square anything away with Transportation. As such, he doesn’t recognize this tiny, wizened gentleman, but he likes him immediately. He always does anytime someone drops the “Head Auror” from his title and treats him normally. 

“Pleasure.” 

“Domestic or international?” 

Harry came in with a request in mind, and he decides to make it before he gets any deeper into the transportation spiel. “Er, international. But as to the location—I’m hoping you might be able to help me with that part.”

* * *

“A portkey to anywhere? That’s what you asked for?” Draco’s tone is incredulous. “And they sent us to America.” 

“Well, yes. But it’s a bit more specific than that. We’re in Oregon.”

Having traded portkey for car keys in Portland—to facilitate an _authentic Muggle experience—_ they’re driving east along the vast Columbia River. The highway’s nestled snugly between calm water and basalt cliffs. Autumn colors are everywhere, and Harry's not sure he's ever seen such rich hues.

“This is the Columbia River Gorge,” Harry says. His new friend in Transportation had provided a packet of information that he'd kept hidden from Draco, but pored over himself. What he didn't learn from it was supplemented by Hermione, who'd done her best to restrain her envy.

“The river cuts right through the Cascade mountains. This is the largest National Scenic Area in America.”

“Hmm.”

Harry can tell Draco wants to tease him for his knowledge, but he’s preoccupied with the changing scenery out the window. 

It only takes about thirty minutes to arrive at their destination. “Multnomah Falls,” says Draco wonderingly, looking at the waterfall visible from the highway. “Merlin.”

It’s terribly impressive; a massive cascade of water cuts right into the cliff, obstructed only by a weathered stone viewing bridge. With all the trees and mossy greenery, it’s incredibly picturesque. 

“The water drops 620 feet, which is about 189 meters,” Harry says, unbuckling his seatbelt and helping Draco release his own. “It’s the tallest waterfall in the Gorge.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Merlin. Are you thinking of changing careers? You’d be a brilliant tour guide.”

They walk hand in hand under the highway through a tunnel. Draco looks eager to get a closer view of the water, but they realize the bridge is currently inaccessible to visitors.

It’s very crowded. Laughing children and harried parents bustle around them, snapping pictures. Draco stares longingly at one small child, but Harry knows him well enough to realize it’s the ice cream the little girl holds that he's interested in.

As lovely as it is, he can sense that what should be soothing is quickly becoming a bit overwhelming for Draco. They dodge another stroller and accept an offer to take pictures for a family, who then return the favor using Harry’s mobile phone. But as soon as that’s done, he tugs at Draco's hand and says, “Let’s go find something a little more out of the way.”

* * *

Harry drives them back the way they came, and then cuts off onto something labeled the Historic Columbia River Highway.

“Weren’t we already on that?” Travel that doesn’t involve Apparition or portkeys is something Draco's still grappling with.

“No,” says Harry. “This was the first major highway built in Oregon. It’s what Muggles used to use before the bigger highway was built. It was meant to be scenic and feel European. What do you think?”

Draco's mesmerized by the view as they climb the twisting road. “It’s beautiful.”

Harry pulls into a parking lot labeled Latourell Falls Trailhead. There are a few other cars but overall, it's far less crowded than Multnomah Falls. 

The hike isn't difficult and they reach the lower falls easily. The trail is a tunnel of autumn foliage. Though they aren't far from the highway, it feels like a different world.

"This one’s only 224 feet, or 68 meters," Harry says. "But it's still the third-tallest waterfall in the Gorge."

"I like it." Draco reaches to let a mottled orange leaf slip through his fingers. "It doesn’t tumble, it just spills."

Harry tries to tell Draco what's surrounding them, but the words _salmonberry_ and _sword fern_ and _Douglas fir_ don't seem to mean much. Instead, he pinches berries, examines the spores on the underside of a fern frond, and lets fir needles prickle his fingers.

Harry frowns at Draco's need to touch. "Careful. Hermione warned me about poison oak and ivy, but I don't remember exactly what they look like."

Draco acts unconcerned, but he exercises more restraint.

When they're deep into the trail and the rain starts, Harry is beyond frustrated. "It was supposed to be sunny today! Though I did read that the weather here changes on a dime. Here, let me—"

They've agreed to use magic very sparingly, but he looks around before pulling his wand to cast an umbrella charm.

Draco grabs his wrist. "Don't."

He's not one to enjoy being uncomfortable, so Harry's shocked to stillness when Draco tilts his head to the sky, letting raindrops spatter his face and dampen his hair. His eyes close and his face relaxes. The peacefulness that settles over his features has been absent for weeks.

He's so beautiful, it makes Harry's chest ache.

"Can you smell that?" Wonder fills Draco's voice, and in a further turn of uncharacteristic behavior, he takes off his shoes and socks to stand barefoot on the wet path. "It's incredible. This is incredible." 

Harry _can_ smell it—the petrichor permeates the moist air. He can feel something, too, and he understands Draco's inexplicable need to be even closer to the earth. His body thrums in a way he's rarely aware of, and he idly wonders if there's something powerfully magical nearby. 

It's cleansing and grounding. Harry releases a deep exhale, and realizes he's needed this as much as Draco has. He drives himself to exhaustion in Auror-mode, as much as Draco sometimes gets lost in his head as an artist, or feels like the past might drown him.

Harry feels _alive_. And very small. It's surreal to live in a world that's contained this degree of beauty without having known it existed. He turns his own face to the sky, closes his eyes and breathes it in.

A change of scenery is something they've both needed. And what gorgeous scenery it is.

As quickly as it came, the downfall stops. Sunlight dapples the trail, and steam rises from the ground in tendrils as the rain-soaked earth warms. A tease of a rainbow appears above the waterfall.

Draco's face is wet, trickling with water he hasn't wiped away, but it's lit up with awe and joy. He's stepped close before Harry realizes it, taking his dampened cheeks into his palms and pulling him into a kiss.

A really _good_ kiss, with warm lips and wet tongue and nips of teeth, and Harry's favorite soft sounds of urgency that come from the back of Draco's throat. The kind of kiss that melancholy holds little space for.

"Hi," Harry says, after a few breathless moments. He'd never say it, for fear of making Draco prickly or guilty about feeling down lately, but what he really means is _there you are. I've missed you._

Draco looks like he might say something, but he just breathes in the fresh air as deep as he can, filling his lungs and holding it until they must burn. 

Harry knows he's in love with him. 

Neither of them has said it. But it must be so painfully obvious to everyone around them. Hermione even slipped something about the five love languages in with his travel materials.

The emotions he's sifted through and mulled over were validated as he'd read it. Draco's appreciation for quality time, acts of service, and especially gifts are easily identifiable. Giving him attention, leaving him a cup of tea before work, and bringing home his favorite treats all make him feel cared for. He thrives when he's doted upon, and it pleases Harry to please him.

In return, Draco's extremely attentive to Harry's greatest need: physical touch. 

The spark that’s been more reluctant to ignite lately bursts into flame. Draco catches Harry's lips again, clutching his jacket and pulling him close.

Harry suddenly wishes they weren't in public. It's less busy here, but the runner who passed them and the woman walking her dog in the opposite direction would surely get an eyeful if Draco dropped to his knees, the way he's starting to right now.

"No," says Harry, laughing, pulling him up. "Not out here. We need to be a little farther off the beaten path for that. When we get to the hotel, though…"

Draco makes a reluctant noise, but charms them both dry and puts his shoes back on.

"Come on," Harry says, taking his hand. "There's an ice cream place we’re not supposed to miss. Let’s compare it to Fortescue’s." 

They're both still working on words of affirmation. Harry thinks they're probably pretty important to both of them. He feels like he might have missed an opportunity to use them, but he also doesn't want to put any pressure on Draco.

He leads them back to the car, knowing that he's not going to be able to keep it to himself for much longer.

* * *

The ice cream place is further east, and they drive by Multnomah Falls again on their way to Cascade Locks. Draco gives it an appreciative look, but says, "I think the second waterfall was better."

They collect their ice cream—soft serve, so not much of a comparison to Fortescue's, but a novelty to Draco—and find a picnic bench overlooking the river.

"That’s the Bridge of the Gods," says Harry. "Native American legend talks about a stone bridge that scientists think really existed here. They say the Great Spirit sent his sons to earth, but they fought over a woman. They growled and threw rocks, shaking the earth until the stone bridge broke. The Great Spirit punished his sons by turning them into the mountains that are around here. Muggles made this bridge, obviously, but it's named to honor the tribal lore."

"Interesting. I don't recall you paying this much attention when we were in school."

The way Draco licks at a trickle of ice cream does not escape Harry's notice. Truthfully, Draco's never escaped Harry's notice. But he decides not to stroke his ego by admitting his preoccupation.

"I was excited to bring you here," he says instead. "We'll go home and no one else we know has ever been here. I like that it belongs to us."

Draco finishes his cone, and a smile lifts one corner of his mouth. "I like that I'm the one you wanted to bring."

* * *

They're back in the car and driving again before he brings it up. "Pansy suggested I might see a Mind Healer."

Harry stiffens. "No one's going to push you, Draco. I didn't ask her—"

"I know you didn't." 

Draco reacted poorly when Harry had hesitantly brought up his own therapy sessions, back before they officially started seeing each other. Being vulnerable has never come easily to him. But there are times Pansy's blunt approach—loving in its own way—has a more effective delivery than Harry's softer touch. 

"Just the thought used to make me anxious. Like I'd rather deal with...whatever than talk to someone about it, because _that_ would be even worse. But now—I'm open to trying it, anyway. If things don’t get better soon."

Harry lifts their joined hands and kisses his knuckles. "I support you, whatever you decide to do." 

Draco sighs, like telling Harry has lifted a huge weight. "That doesn't mean you should stop taking me on holidays."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Harry squeezes his hand.

Now is not the time, either. Not while he's driving across a bridge and can't look in Draco's eyes as he says it. But soon, maybe even on this trip. When he thinks of the future, it's full of ways he plans to show his love for Draco, so it's probably time to say the words.

In the meantime, Harry's already wondering where the next portkey will take them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw you mention these nostalgic spots awhile back, Cait, and I've been in the same places. It seemed fitting that Draco and Harry should check them out, too. 💚
> 
> I reblog things on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/roseharpermaxwell) sometimes 💚


End file.
